


parts of me that eyes can’t see (at thirty thousand feet)

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Airplane Sex, F/F, Fluff, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 09:08:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20423453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Sometimes, Beca just needs Chloe.She loves and adores Chloe and marvels at all the ways Chloe loves her.She needs Chloe like air.And more often than not, Chloe knows exactly what she needs.





	parts of me that eyes can’t see (at thirty thousand feet)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/186829644554/beca-is-all-smiles-and-confidence-on-the-red). and some of [this](https://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/post/186840341039/the-plane-pic-could-so-be-a-fic-like-on-the).
> 
> Title inspired by Alina Baraz’s and Galimatias’ “Unfold.”

Sometimes Beca just wants to be held.

She loves when Chloe’s arms come around her, safe and secure, in the privacy of their home. Or sometimes in the back of the town car, when Beca heaves out a breath she had been holding in for the entire evening. Or maybe even at the end of an interview segment, in the comfort of Beca’s dressing room where Chloe refuses to allow her to second-guess herself. 

While Beca isn’t _ totally _adverse to PDA at events, having long since publicized her relationship with Chloe, it still feels wrong to want to cling to Chloe’s hand at every turn, especially when she has an image to uphold.

(She can hear Chloe’s voice in her head, always–

“Image? What image?” Chloe’s smile would be teasing. Still so lovely. “You’re afraid that they’re going to find out that you’re soft?” Chloe would probably keep her tone light. Maybe stick her tongue out.

Beca would probably narrow her eyes. Pretend to pout or glare. But she always caves because Chloe will gently tug her in for a kiss, soft and light.)

So there’s an image, sure, but sometimes all Beca wants is to let her love shine from her eyes and stare at Chloe while she sips from her champagne glass, always playing the dutiful girlfriend.

But honestly–

“I can’t wait to get you alone,” Beca murmurs, uncaring for once about all the eyes that surround them. All the vultures that want to leap on them, write about them, whatever it takes to take Beca down a notch.

It is exhausting.

“Oh?” Chloe asks, interest coloring her tone. She says nothing more however, waiting for Beca to say more.

Waiting for Beca to tell her exactly what she needs.

Beca swallows, forcing herself to work with her suddenly dry mouth as a myriad of ideas float through her head. She imagines a hundred scenarios at once, each more appealing than the last.

“Miss Mitchell?” a soft voice interrupts, cutting through the haze created by the intensity of Chloe’s gaze as she focuses on Beca. Chloe shifts and suddenly her expression fades into neutrality, though a hint of a smile remains behind the edge of the glass as she holds it up against her lips.

“Yeah,” Beca manages to say after clearing her throat. 

“They want you for press photos.”

A part of Beca wants to complain – she wants to just _ sit down _ because all this press is ridiculous and demanding – but she sees the sympathy in Chloe’s eyes.

“I’ll be waiting,” Chloe assures her, not needing Beca to voice her unspoken insecurities and fears. “Don’t worry, baby.” 

The assistant carefully averts her eyes when Beca leans in to steal a quick kiss from Chloe’s lips.

* * *

Sometimes Beca just wants _ silence_. 

Like the silence in the car that takes them to the private jet awaiting them so they can fly across the country back to Los Angeles.

The thought would normally excite her, but the realization that they need to squeeze in showers the moment they reach home and possibly _ one _nap in their comfortable king-sized mattress before Beca’s off for another meeting at the studio...well, it makes Beca want to not speak to anybody for a really long time.

Silence would be ideal, but Chloe always makes her feel like the words she has aren’t ever enough.

“What are you thinking?” Chloe asks, reaching across the space between them to pull Beca’s hand from her lap.

“Red-eyes,” she mumbles. "Hate 'em."

Chloe squeezes her hand and waits patiently for Beca to meet her eyes. “I’m so proud of you,” she says when Beca finally looks at her. “I know you’re tired, but it’s just a little bit more.”

“Why did I agree to all of this?” Beca asks. She knows she’s complaining for no good reason, but it feels good for like half-a-second for her to let it out.

But Chloe – Chloe is there to always reel her back in.

“Because you love making music,” Chloe begins. “You love making music for people, you love making music for yourself.” Chloe’s fingers squeeze her hand a little bit more. “And, if I’m being honest, you love making music for me.”

“Debatable,” Beca mutters, but she can’t help the shy smile that creeps across her lips.

“You’ve worked so hard,” Chloe promises. “And I’m so glad to be here for you every step of the way.”

“You know being a vet is way harder, right?” Beca asks. “Like, you’re literally the most hardworking person I know.” She sighs. “And here I am whisking you away on weekends to these dumb events when you could be saving lives.”

Chloe giggles. “Don’t be silly.” 

And just like that, they’re kissing again in the back of the car like teenagers. As Beca slides her hands through soft, carefully-styled, red hair, she sinks into the kiss while the rest of the world fades. The hum of the car gives way to the beating of her heart, steady like Chloe’s hand on her waist, pulling her close until no space exists between them.

* * *

And sometimes, Beca just needs Chloe.

She loves and adores Chloe and marvels at all the ways Chloe loves her. 

She needs Chloe like air.

And more often than not, Chloe knows exactly what she needs.

* * *

All the exhaustion somehow evaporated from their bodies long ago. The moment she shed her too-tight dress and the moment Chloe kicked off her heels, the air shifted around them.

It is not exactly the first time they’re having sex on a private plane, but Beca feels antsier than usual. She sees the concern and care in Chloe’s eyes (God, she loves her so much), which is almost enough to send her over the edge.

(And maybe she had pulled at Chloe a little too eagerly earlier; pulled at her shirt to greedily kiss her in want and desire for her love. Maybe she had been a little too enthusiastic about how she had grabbed at the hem of Chloe’s shirt before pulling Chloe in tighter and closer, moaning softly into her mouth.

“Already?” Chloe had asked, voice low and full of promise against Beca’s kiss-swollen lips.)

She’s so fucked.

“What do you need, baby?” Chloe asks. Her voice is soft and low as she speaks over the hum of the plane. She readjusts herself on her knees in front of Beca who is gazing down at her with a wide-eyed, hungry expression. Keeping her eyes locked on Beca’s as best as she can, she pushes the hem of Beca’s oversized sweater up a bit more and kisses Beca’s clit once. Then again. Then repeatedly until she is moving her open mouth around Beca’s now-wet clit and leaving occasional pecks and licks along Beca’s folds, like she has all the time in the world.

And honestly, it kind of feels like they do.

Sometimes, in the liminal space of these private jets, Chloe thinks that they do have all the time in the world. They have all the time in the world as Beca regroups and recuperates from her foray into the world of fame. They have time, in the way Beca’s hands eventually and slowly move to Chloe’s hair, like she needs something to steady herself; it is in the way Beca’s lips slowly part so she can expel quiet breaths that give way to pants and the tiniest of whimpers; it is in the way Beca’s thighs tense around Chloe’s head, like she is desperately trying not to move.

But in all of it – in all of Beca’s tiny movements – Chloe can see unadulterated desperation and lust in her eyes. Like Chloe is the only one who can bring that to her.

It is Beca relinquishing all power – any perceived power that she might have had holding Chloe’s hand on the red carpet – and letting Chloe consume her entirely. Still– “You know what I need,” Beca rasps. Sometimes Chloe wants to _ hear _it from Beca’s mouth. She wants to hear the desire and desperation. 

“Whatever you need,” Chloe murmurs before she swipes her thumb across her lower lip. It comes away with excess moisture and she hums, licking it right off her skin. “Whatever you need to come, Bec,” she reassures. She moves her hands back to Beca’s thighs and holds her legs apart, moving her face closer to Beca’s wet, pink center so Beca can feel her breathe in short bursts against her heated skin. “But I want you to _ tell me_,” she enunciates, punctuating her order with a lick against the crease of Beca’s inner thigh.

Right where moisture collects.

So close to where Beca needs her most.

Beca makes some kind of strangled sound before she speaks. It takes her a few moments before she seems to blink past lingering exhaustion and whatever other dredges of stress and strain had been on her mind. When she refocuses on Chloe, seemingly processing her question, she heaves a breath and stares at Chloe in awe – the way Chloe is kneeling before her. Not in obedience or subservience however, but looking like she’s about to give Beca _ the world _ and Beca can do nothing but fall into Chloe’s embrace.

“_Beca,_” Chloe repeats, a little stricter than before.

“I need–” Beca swallows when Chloe’s hand slides up her thigh so her thumb is rubbing soothing circles into her skin, so close to where Beca aches for her. With each pass of Chloe’s thumb close to her dripping center, Beca thinks her hips twitch upwards in a bid to get Chloe’s hands on her in the exact way she needs. “I need _ you_,” she chokes out. “Please, _ please, _ please–” her desperate chant is cut off by her own cry when Chloe leans in to wrap her lips around her neglected clit. Chloe slips her arms and shoulders under Beca’s thighs and pulls her closer, supporting her lower body off the seat as best as she can. With this new position, Beca leverages herself and attempts to subtly grind on Chloe’s face, rocking her hips up and down as Chloe finally slips her tongue through her folds before gently prodding at her dripping hole. 

It takes a few tries – takes a few tries usually – for Chloe to push her tongue through Beca’s cunt and really finally bury herself inside her girlfriend, but it’s worth it. So fucking worth it. The build-up for Beca is worth it because now, with Chloe’s face pressed right between her legs and Chloe’s tongue doing sinful things to her, the air around them feels heady and messy. 

Beca grunts – a little high-pitched sound – when Chloe’s tongue swirls and prods expertly. There is no real precision, if Beca’s being honest, but how Chloe takes such carnal joy in absolutely eating her out – well, Chloe has it down to an _ art _ Plus, it is so completely fucking satisfying when Chloe makes that little pleased humming sound when she gets her tongue to slip into Beca.

It doesn’t last though – never does – because as usual, Chloe is intuitive about what Beca needs. It doesn’t stop the choked whine from leaving Beca’s throat when Chloe slowly moves back and kisses her wet center lightly. A gentle peck in a show of affection, comparatively. It really only makes Beca want to push Chloe’s face back between her legs, but she figures that would be a Bad Idea with how Chloe already dons a mock-reproachful expression when she looks up at Beca. 

So she moves her hands to grip the armrests tightly, attempting to regain some semblance of control over her body while Chloe devises new ways to torture her.

“Stop moving so much,” Chloe finally whispers, like they’re sharing a dirty little secret between them. Like if Beca obliges, Chloe will give her everything and more. “You said you’d stay still and let me take care of you,” Chloe reminds her. Since she is speaking, Beca tries to focus anywhere but on the glistening of Chloe’s chin out of respect for her girlfriend; anywhere but the extra swell to her already-full lips; anywhere but the smear of Beca’s come all over her fucking mouth that Chloe isn’t bothering to clean up because she knows what that does to Beca.

Oh, and the way Chloe’s fingers – two to start – move to rub tight circles on her clit, just so Beca isn’t feeling particularly neglected.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Chloe murmurs. “Because I love you and because this is what you want,” she continues. “Because this is what you wanted me to do, right? When you stuck your tongue in my mouth earlier and all but begged me to put my hands on you.”

Beca can’t say anything to _ that_. She isn’t entirely certain that she’ll be able to say anything again other than Chloe’s name and “please” over and over again.

“Do you want my fingers in you?” Chloe asks, entirely too sweetly for the content of her speech. Her fingers move to Beca’s entrance, smearing wetness along the way, and she begins to part Beca’s folds so slowly and delicately, as if she is handling something precious and fragile. 

_ Handle with care_, Beca thinks faintly and slightly deliriously before she remembers to answer. “Y-yes,” she responds, finally finding her voice. “Yes, God, _ yes _ Chlo.” She can’t manage two syllables of Chloe’s name. “Please fuck me, I love you, I love you, I love–” She sucks in such a hard breath when Chloe’s fingers finally sink inside her that she thinks she loses the ability to breathe momentarily. Long and slender, Chloe’s fingers immediately twitch and twist inside and Beca clenches greedily around them to keep them in place and to feel every last movement. She swallows, feeling the strain in her neck and throat as she tilts her head back even further. When she opens her eyes again, panting with each thrust of Chloe’s fingers, she immediately looks down at Chloe between her legs, expecting to meet Chloe’s eyes.

Instead, Chloe’s eyes are trained between her legs where Beca is sure she is swollen and pink and so, so wet.

(“I love how wet you are,” Chloe had murmured once. “How wet you get when you beg me to take you and beg me to take care of you. God, I want you like this all the time – spread open for me and ready for me at any given time. Would that be too much?” she had asked.

Had Chloe been expecting an answer? Beca was sure she would never be able to speak again. Chloe had stolen all her words.)

Chloe’s eyes are dark with desire and want and her lips are parted in her concentration. The flush on Chloe’s cheeks has spread down to her neck and disappears under the thin white cotton shirt she is wearing.

As Beca watches, Chloe moves her stagnant hand – the one that had been resting on Beca’s hip – and it disappears.

It disappears somewhere between their bodies. Somewhere down Chloe’s body, Beca thinks. Chloe moans quietly then, her eyelids fluttering for a moment.

_ Are you fucking yourself? _Beca wants to ask. She wants to formulate the words to put Chloe on the spot so she can confess her own dirty secrets to Beca. But Beca’s mouth feels dry and her throat feels tight. She can feel the twitch of Chloe’s shoulder against her thighs and she hopes against hope that Chloe is fucking herself. She knows how much Chloe enjoys using her own fingers to bring herself pleasure and it spikes Beca’s own arousal to know that Chloe can’t help herself even at moments where she appears to be in total control of Beca’s body.

As if reading her mind – as if she senses that Beca has regained some sense of herself (she hasn’t) – Chloe looks up then, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth as she contemplates Beca’s completely debauched look and her wildly desperate expression. 

Beca, though she is still panting and whimpering with the movements of Chloe’s fingers, is not likely to come from that alone as it becomes apparent when Beca’s hips twitch up wantonly. Chloe arches an eyebrow at Beca, as if daring her to move again.

She does. 

Chloe sighs and lowers her face again to Beca’s cunt, licking at Beca’s stiff clit. A few little licks to start, before she envelops it in her mouth. She readjusts her arm and her position, finally removing her hand from between her own legs to still Beca’s steadily rocking her hips.

When Chloe sharpens her tongue to a point to press against her clit – to flick it as she keeps her mouth on Beca – Beca _ loses _it. She clenches hard around Chloe’s fingers and all but snaps, a string of curses and blasphemous things leaving her mouth to echo around the empty cabin. She rocks back in her seat, head tilting back so hard that she thinks she hears the seat creak, but before she can do anything else except choke out Chloe’s name, Chloe’s mouth is gone from her clit and she is being covered by Chloe’s body. Chloe kneels on the edge of the seat now, pausing momentarily before she fumbles for and finally hits the button to push the seat into a complete reclining position. Then, keeping one hand braced against the headrest she hovers above Beca, watching every movement that passes across her facial expression. Between them, Chloe’s wrist twists and her forearm flexes as her fingers steadily pump in and out of Beca, harder than before.

“You’re so hot when you’re desperate,” Chloe murmurs. She grabs Beca’s chin, keeping her balance as best as she can. When she kisses Beca, she makes sure Beca can taste herself thoroughly. “But I know you,” she murmurs, keeping her voice low and wanting so Beca can slip into her orgasm steadily. “I love you.”

Beca sobs, having lost control long ago, before her eyes flutter open to stare at Chloe in gratitude. “You do,” she promises. “Fuck, y-you do.” Her voice catches when Chloe uses her hips to be a driving force behind her hand’s movements, but she remembers herself and she will be remiss if she ever misses an opportunity to return the sentiment, even if Chloe is absolutely fucking the sensibility out of her. “I love you,” she chokes out. “I love you–_ fuck _–I love you, I love you–”

Chloe moans and grinds her bare cunt down against Beca’s thigh, finally losing some of her steely control. Her eyelids flutter and suddenly she is sighing into Beca’s mouth. Her lips rest against Beca’s, parted and almost unmoving. Beca reaches up and around Chloe’s body to hold her and to anchor herself thirty-five thousand feet above ground.

Beca recalls how Chloe had touched herself just moments before. How much Chloe is enjoying this becomes Beca’s sole focus. That she brings her girlfriend equal pleasure whenever Chloe takes care of her is what sends her over the edge. The sound she makes – somewhere between a scream and a sob – would embarrassing if not for how tightly Chloe grips her jaw afterwards and pushes her tongue into her mouth in a heated kiss.

She comes and _ comes _ hard and long around Chloe’s fingers, her entire body alternating between shivers and stiff tenses like she is a rubber band being snapped.

And for Chloe, the noise Beca makes is music. The way Beca’s body bends and sinks into hers is like poetry. 

Chloe is whispering her own verses into Beca’s hair when Beca comes to. Soft murmurs of Beca’s name. Quiet “I love yous” against tangled curls. And finally– “Hey,” Chloe whispers when Beca grunts in displeasure upon the discovery that Chloe removed her fingers. “Welcome back.”

The easy strength with which Chloe picks Beca up – lifting her from the reclined seat – would make Beca _ swoon _ normally. Her body feels a little boneless and her mind a little bit _ worse_, but her wet and warm cunt is very conscious of the way Chloe’s hipbone presses against her appealingly.

_ You’re so fucking desperate, _ Beca chides herself.

In an equally quick turnaround, they are sinking back onto the seat more comfortably, with Beca half straddling Chloe’s thighs. Chloe holds her still, steady and strong against her. Beca presses herself as close as she can and tilts her head down to kiss Chloe. She cups the side of Chloe’s neck while Chloe’s slips around her waist, but before their lips meet, it is Beca who stops.

“Your hand is wet,” Beca observes, her mind a little slow. A slow smile spreads across her lips. “I knew it.”

Long past being embarrassed, Chloe nods and leans in to nip at Beca’s lower lip. “I had to take care of myself a little,” she murmurs.

Beca frowns, allowing Chloe to kiss her for a few moments before she pulls back. “I want to take care of you too,” she says, sounding a little petulant even to her own ears.

Chloe’s laugh is light and airy. Though she does not stop Beca’s hand from squirming between her legs, she quickly sucks in a breath when Beca’s hand comes in contact with soft, wet skin. “We have all the time in the world,” Chloe mumbles, a little distracted by the way Beca’s fingers expertly massage her clit.

With hours left until their destination, Beca supposes they do.


End file.
